


Memories of a Flower

by Kyuukichan



Category: Wolf's Rain
Genre: F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-16
Updated: 2012-08-16
Packaged: 2017-11-12 06:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/487655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyuukichan/pseuds/Kyuukichan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>another post-series piece, this time Kiba-centric. originally done for a drabble challenge back in 2004, the theme being "obsession."<br/>Kiba, now reborn into the new world, still feels a mysterious pull and a sense that something important is missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of a Flower

**Author's Note:**

> first person from Kiba's POV

Something is missing. Something I long to find.

It's not like Mom and Dad haven't done their best to see that I grew up happy. I haven't been neglected at all. Nor is it any problems in school. My grades are good and have many friends there.

Still, deep within my soul I can't help but feel something very important is missing. I end up wandering in my spare time, hoping to find what it is, because of that.

In my wanderings I pass an alley, for a moment I smell something that makes that empty place ache even more. I begin to run, spurred on by the scent.

I run so hard I can feel my heart beating against my chest and my sides ache. I can't stop running. I don't -want- to stop running, not until I find that missing thing.

Suddenly I fall to my knees, completely exhausted. What is it I've lost that won't let me spirit rest? What is it I seek?

The scent floats on the breeze and I smell it yet again. The ache comes once more as the sense of loss intensifies. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to hold back tears.

Scents and images try to force themselves forward. The crisp scent of snow, a canine musk, the perfume of a flower...

A word - or is it a name - rests on the tip of my tongue. I can almost voice it, but not quite.

I want to be able to voice it, yet I'm scared to as well. Will it ease the ache or make it stronger? Or perhaps both.

My eyes widen. Even with my inner turmoil part of me still relentlessly sought out that name. That subconscious part was driven so obsessively that even if my conscious mind fully wanted it to stop it couldn't make it.

At that moment I remembered. I saw a face - her face. Her pale hair, red eyes, and kind smile. I remembered her touch. My heart felt as if it could shatter. Then, not even a second later, my mouth moved.

"Cheza," I said softly. Little more than a whimper, so quiet anyone passing by could be able to hear. Still, despite it's softness, it shook my very being so great it hurt.

Then my tears fell free.


End file.
